


The Feast of Songs and Starlight

by StarlitQueen



Series: The Songs and Starlight Series [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Celtic Women, Elf, Elven Music, Elves, F/M, Falling In Love, Irish music, Love, Love at First Sight, Mirkwood, Music, Song - Freeform, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Thranduil - Freeform, middle-earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitQueen/pseuds/StarlitQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to see if I could tell a love story using a collection of songs with as little dialogue between the two main characters as possible. This is what I came up with: </p><p>It is time for the Feast of Starlight, the most sacred celebration of the Mirkwood Elves. An unusual collection of musicians have been invited to the kingdom to begin the feast. One of these is an elven singer called Nemireth who immediately catches the eye of King Thranduil. Very few words are actually spoken between the strange elven singer and the King, but with every song they are able to learn just a little bit more about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sky and The Dawn and The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Song: The Sky and The Dawn and The Sun - Celtic Women (A New Journey)

Every year, the elves of Mirkwood came together to celebrate the Feast of Starlight. It was their most sacred celebrations and therefore the most grand. Wine flowed as if it were from an endless river, plates never seemed to be empty of food no matter how much had been consumed. No expense was spared.

As was tradition, just before the sun disappeared and the stars gave light to their world, all the elves of Mirkwood would gather in the great hall. There would be a concert of music to welcome the stars.

There was a time when the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil, loved the musical celebration more than the feast itself. But not since the dark days had he danced and sang like he once had. He relinquished the task of finding worthy musicians to his advisors. In fact, he had given them the task of arranging any preparations for the great feasts of Mirkwood. With each passing year the feasts had grown fewer in number. Now the only feast that the King still celebrated was the Feast of Starlight. For now only the stars gave comfort to the King, what small comfort it was.

For this year, the council had looked beyond the borders of Mirkwood for music. Thranduil was uneasy with the decision, he did not like bringing outsiders into his realm. But other, more pressing matters occupied his mind. Like the company of dwarves in his dungeon. _Besides, what harm could a small handful of musicians do?_ He’d thought as he allowed the advisory to send for the musicians.

That night as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Thranduil took his place at the grand chair on the Eastern side of the great hall. The musicians the advisors had found had made an unusual request. In the middle of the grand hall was a raised platform, perfectly circular in shape. Five walkways protruded from the circular stage. Each long platform extended approximately twenty feet from the circle before dipping down in a ramp like structure so one might walk from the platform to the ground and vise versa. All except the Eastern walkway, which was built in such a way that, if he wanted to, the King could rise from his throne and walk right to the middle of the circle. without the use of a ramp.

Noticing the King’s displeasure with the stage, the chief advisor went to his side. “

These preparations are unusual,” the King said, his voice bearing no emotion. “Who are these performers that believe they can disrupt the hall in such a way?”

“Your Highness, these performers are highly regarded by all races through out Middle-Earth. There is no one quite like them,” the advisor said quickly.

“That remains to be seen,” the King sighed crossing his long legs. “Inform them that they are to begin immediately.” The advisory quickly disappeared into an adjoining room. Not a minute later, at least twenty men, dwarven, elven, and human, appeared from a doorway and stood on the ground around the perimeter of the stage. Between all of them, they carried every instrument imaginable, even some that were completely foreign to the Elves of Mirkwood.

Suddenly, the candles went out. The great hall was shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the quickly fading sun. _Cheap magic,_ Thranduil thought bitterly. The air was filled with a sound that was both sweet and sad at the same time. Some sort of string instrument that was uncommon in the halls of Mirkwood. Small lights containing vials of liquid starlight had been places around and above the stage, illuminating it with a calm, shimmering glow. As the music grew stronger, Thranduil could make out five figures coming up the ramp opposite him.

_Humans,_ he thought trying not to scoff aloud. There was no human musician that was finer than an elven one. Thranduil was already disappointed and disinterested. He deeply desired a bottomless cup of wine.

Four human women stood on the stage in a row facing him. They had begun to harmonize as the fifth took her place in the center. Though all of the women were slender in build and graceful in their movements, there was something different about the fifth. She moved like a willow tree in the breeze, her body seemed to be made of mist and wind. When the light finally shown down on her, Thranduil understood why. She was not a human. She was an elf.

He was puzzled by her. He had never seen an elf performing along with a group of humans before. It intrigued him more than he would have liked to admit.

She was beautiful, even for an elf. Her long hair fell in waves of vibrant red and her eyes were as green as the emerald at his throat. Her eyes were trained upward, soaking in the light as the stars began to illuminate the great hall. One by one the women began to sing but Thranduil would not look away from the elf.

 

_High is the moon tonight_

_Hiding its guiding light_

_High_

 

_Heaven and earth do sleep_

_Still in the dark so deep_

_I will the darkness sweep_

 

_I will the moon to flight_

_I will the heavens bright_

_I will the earth delight_

 

When the elf maiden finally opened her lips to sing, it was like nothing the King had ever heard before.

 

_Open your eyes with me_

_See paradise with me_

_Awake and arise with me_

 

Her voice was far sweeter than any of the human women. But there was also a strong power behind it. Thranduil was captivated, he could not take his eyes from her. There was so much life in her eyes while she sang. As she sang, she met his eyes and smiled brilliantly and genuinely. Thranduil felt his heart clutch for just a moment. Then the drums began to pound with a new intensity. All five ladies raised their voices together. The elf maiden raised her arms to the skies, and as if she were a fallen star, her skin began to shimmer and glow.

 

_I am the dawn,_

_I`m the new day begun_

_I bring you the morning,_

_I bring you the sun_

 

The elf maiden stepped forward, opening her palms. Light sprang from her hands and she threw it into the air as if it were water. Glowing droplets of golden light rained down on the elves nearest to the stage, much to their delight. As she sang, she looked about the room favoring every elf with her dazzling smile. They were all as captivated with her as the King was.  

 

_I hold back the night_

_and I open the skies_

_I give light to the world,_

_I give sight to your eyes_

_From the first of all time,_

_until time is undone_

_Forever and ever_

_and ever and ever_

_And I am the dawn_

_and the sky and the sun_

_I am one with the One,_

_and I am the dawn_

 

The singers suddenly retreated, clearing the center of the circle allowing a spritely elven male to enter with a fiddle. He continued the song using the fiddle as his voice. The men around the stage began to chant in a language Thranduil had never heard before. Those who had drums continued to build. The woman had started to dance in a circle around the fiddler. None had more grace than the elf maiden, who seemed to glow even brighter as she danced. She leapt and twirled in a way that had not been seen in Mirkwood since the dark times.

Each time she passed in front of the King’s throne she beamed, her eyes shinning brighter than her iridescent skin.

Her name was Nemireth. As she danced she looked around her and saw nearly every Mirkwood elf clapping and swaying with the music. All but the King. He was so still he could have been made of stone.

_Ice more likely,_ she thought to herself as she made yet another attempt to extract a smile from him. _His eyes are like winter. There is no warmth in him._ More than once she found herself looking too long into this blue eyes, which were harsh yet beautiful at the same time. What intrigued her was that when she looked at him, he held her gaze and she was always the first to look away.

As the fiddler played, Nemireth noticed the other four had plucked elves from the crowd and lead them onto the platform to dance. The elves that had been chosen were dancing as if they had not danced in years. Inspired, she turned back to the King and approached his throne, her hand extended out to him.

The king’s heart was pounding but he did not show it. He stared at her with a cool indifference. Part of him longed to take her hand, to dance with her and be merry. But he remained cold and aloof. Her eyes twinkled as a smirk appeared on her lips. He tilted his head slightly as she retracted her hand. She bowed deeply to him and danced away.

_He’s afraid of something,_ she thought. The fiddler danced off the stage and she took her place with the other singers to complete the song.

 

_I am the sky and the dawn and the sun_

_I am the sky and the new day begun_

_I am the sky and the dawn and the sun_

 

They finished hand in hand, arms held high. The elves erupted with applause in a very unelven manner. Nemireth looked at the King once more. He wore a calculating expression. When he spoke, his voice was like velvet. Nemireth found herself thinking she could listen to him speak all day. She briefly wondered if he could sing.

“Very well done,” he said, though there was little feeling in his voice. “My advisors were correct in saying that there is no performers quite like you ladies.” Together, hands still joined, they dipped into curtsies.

“It is the greatest honor to sing for you, Your Highness,” one of the women said. The king bowed his head briefly, accepting the compliment.

“What are your names, ladies?” The king asked, his eyes finding Nemireth’s. But another woman stepped forward. She was pale for a human, with wispy blonde hair that seemed to move even when she did not. She had a regal bearing, for a human. Like all of the women, she wore a white gown. Her’s was made of lace that clung to her body and fell away from her when it reached her knees. The sleeves of her gown were tight fitting all the way down to her wrists.

“I am Rissa, your Grace,” she said bowing deeply. The king nodded to her. Another girl stepped forward. Her olive complexion set off her hazel eyes. Thick brown curls framed her face and fell down her back. Her gown left one arm bare, the other completely covered with a sleeve that widened dramatically as it reached her wrist. The body of her dress was simple silk, except for a silverly scarf she had tied around her hips.

“I am Ingrid,” she said, placing a hand over her heart and sinking into a deep curtsy. Her accent was unusual. Thranduil could not place it.

“I am Miranda,” a third woman said. She had skin like porcelain and eyes like sapphires. Her hair was as black as midnight. She was certainly the prettiest of the human women. Though the elf maiden eclipsed her completely. The king suspected Miranda was aware of it too, for she did not look at the elf with the same warmth as she did her other companions. Her gown was the most dramatic, completely sleeveless leaving the tops of her breasts bare. It flared out from her waist in a sweeping skirt of lace and velvet. She tried in vain to hold the gaze of the King but his eyes had flickered, once again, to Nemireth.

The fourth girl stepped forward. She really was a girl, no more than sixteen years of age with shinny golden ringlets and eyes like the sky. “I am Blythe, your highness,” she said in a small voice very unlike the voice she had sung with. Her hands were trembling slightly. She looked like a snowdrop. The white sleeves of her dress wrapped around her forearms, leaving her shoulders bare. The King nodded, in attempt to show some kindness to the clearly intimidated girl, and turned his gaze to the elf.

“And what is your name?” He asked her. She fluttered down into a beautiful dancers curtsy. She moved lightly, as if she were made of nothing more than water, air, and shimmering light, like she could disappear on the wind if she so chose.

“Nemireth, your majesty,” she said never taking her eyes from his. Her smooth cheeks were slightly flushed from dancing and her smile refused to leave her lips. The King tried not to look at them. Her dress was by far the loveliest. Like Miranda’s, it was sleeveless. In lieu of sleeves, several strands of white and silver gems wrapped around her arms before connecting back to the top of the dress. The King let his eyes wander over the creamy skin of her arms, shoulders and slender neck. He imagined she would be soft to the touch, like the lightest of silks.

The gown’s bodice fit her slender body beautifully. The skirt was composed of unevenly cut layers of a misty fabric that fluttered about her when she danced. As she rose from her curtsy, Thranduil got a glimpse of slender bare feet peeking through the bottom layers of the gown.

“And how, Nemireth, did you find yourself among a performing company of human ladies?” The King asked. For once, he took great care not to cause offense with his tone. But he did not miss the slightest flash of annoyance in the eyes of Miranda. Nemireth laughed.

“My King, I’m afraid if I were to tell you the story in its entirety you would miss your own feast,” her speaking voice was just as lovely as her singing voice and it was filled with laughter. He quiet liked listening to her speak.

“Very well,” he said. Nemireth noticed the smallest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth. But no warmth reached his eyes. “Carry on, my ladies. I look forward to seeing what you have in store for us.”

All five women curtsied again. But to his disappointment, all but Miranda left the stage. Miranda did have a lovely voice, but the King could not make himself listen. His eyes strained to pick out Nemireth’s form in the darkness. He cursed himself but he could not help it. He had not seen so much joy and life in one being in so many years. He did not realize how much he yearned for it until it was before him.  


	2. Téir Abhaile Riú

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrated by King Thranduil's cold indifference, Nemireth doubles her efforts to bring a smile to her face. But in doing so, she nearly reveals a secret of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Téir Abhaile Riú- Celtic Women (seeing a pattern? lol)

“I spoke to a King!” Blythe said in a trembly whisper. She, Nemireth, and the other ladies had stepped into a small side room while Miranda sang before King Thranduil.

“Yes, you did, pet,” Nemireth said, squeezing the young girl’s shaky hand. “And he adored you.”

“Oh not me, Nemireth!” Blythe replied. “Did you not see the way he looked at you? He did not even so much as glance at the rest of us.” Nemireth felt a blush creeping up onto her pale cheeks.

“I’m sure he’s glancing at Miranda now,” Nemireth replied.

“No, he isn’t,” Ingrid said from her place by the doorway where she was peeking at the stage. “She may as well not even be there!” Nemireth, Blythe, and Rissa hurried to the doorway. Sure enough, Miranda was swishing and swaying, singing a beautiful song in the language of her people but the King was paying her no mind. Instead his he was scanning the room with his cold eyes.

“Oh that isn’t going well at all, is it?” Rissa murmured. Miranda was clearly becoming more agitated with the King’s lack of attention. Nemireth could see it in her movements. When Miranda finished her song, she bowed with grace but left the stage her face barely masking her fury.

Nemireth stepped out of the small room beside Blythe. When she was not singing, Blythe was a creature of great shyness. She stood at the small ramp before her, trembling.

“Go on, pet,” Nemireth encouraged. “Sing strong.” She gave Blythe the gentlest of nudges to get her moving up the ramp onto the stage. The elves clapped politely for the human girl who was stiff and trembling until the music began.

Satisfied that Blythe would be all right, Nemireth turned back to the small side room, but not before stealing a quick glance at the King. He was not watching Blythe as Nemireth desired, but staring right at her. Her breath hitched, she could see the blue of his eyes even through the murky darkness that escaped the glowing light of the stage.

_Curse those eyes,_ Nemireth thought to herself, placing a hand over her stomach as if that would still it’s fluttering. She quickly ducked into the side room.

“We must do something,” she whispered to the other ladies. “About what? Blythe is doing perfectly fine,” Rissa whispered back. Nemireth shook her head.

“No, I mean about the King.” At the mention of the King, Miranda noticeably perked up.

“What of the King?” She asked poorly feigning indifference.

“He hasn’t smiled once!” Nemireth exclaimed in a whisper. Rissa, Ingrid, and Miranda gave her puzzled looks. “We must do something! Something to make him smile, to make him laugh, anything!”

“We are doing everything we can,” Ingrid replied. “And if he isn’t enjoying what we are doing then it is his own fault. The other elves of this kingdom adore us. So the problem is his own.”

“You may be right about that,” Nemireth admitted. “But I sense that he is one who has not smiled in a long time.”

“And how would you possibly know that?” Miranda almost spat. “And why is it so important to you that you be the one to make him smile?”

“I didn’t say _I_ had to be the one to make him smile,” Nemireth bristled. “It simply saddens me to see someone surrounded by beauty and laughter and not seem to be a part of it.” Miranda scoffed and looked away. As always, Nemireth shook off Miranda’s seemingly endless bitterness towards her.

Nemireth could not explain why seeing the King’s enjoyment suddenly mattered so much to her, but she was filled with stubborn determination to make it happen.

Meanwhile, Blythe had finished her song and was bowing gracefully to King Thranduil before retreated from the stage. Out of all the human ladies, Thranduil found Blythe to be the most enjoyable. But he could not properly listen to her, for he kept scanning the room for a glimpse of Nemireth. He’d seen her once, for just a moment as Blythe took the stage, but she disappeared into the darkness.

The great hall was plunged into darkness once more. Thranduil drummed his fingers impatiently. When the light returned would she be there? His thoughts repeated themselves over and over again as he strained to see through the blackness.

A small cluster of lights illuminated over the crowd to his left. When he saw it was Nemireth the beam was shinning down on, relief flooded him. It was surprising, he could not understand why laying eyes on her calmed him so, how the sweetness of her voice somehow made his chest feel lighter.

She stepped through the crowd, moving as if she were in a dream, singing softly as if she were the only person in the room, lost in her own world. As she moved, she began to sing faster. It was a most unusual way of singing. There were no words, just sounds. The same few sounds repeated over and over again but somehow, the King heard it as if it were a real language.

_She speaks the language of music,_ he thought in awe. In this unusual language of song and sound she spoke to him of something of great excitement. But she was cut off. Across the room, to the right of the king, Miranda appeared. She spoke her own phrase in the song language. She was clearly displeased by what Nemireth was singing.

Together, the argued in this strange singing language. Thranduil was reminded of sisters bickering. Miranda gestured with force and anger while Nemireth dismissed her with casual waves. Whenever Miranda looked in a different direction, Nemireth crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

The bickering ladies moved up their ramps and continued their musical argument on the round stage. As it reached it’s peak, Rissa appeared on the stage, stepping between the arguing ‘sisters’ and silencing them with raised hands. Her authority over the other two was clear. Miranda fumed while Nemireth crossed her arms and pouted playfully.

When the fiddler appeared and began to play, Nemireth stepped forward. Her eyes locked on Thranduil’s and a sneaky, mischievous smile appeared on her pretty lips.

 

_Look how the light of the town_

_The lights of the town are shining now_

_Tonight I'll be dancing around_

_I'm off on the road to Galway now_

 

She began to dance around the stage, her feet barely touching the floor. Thranduil was so entranced by her that he had not noticed Rissa and Miranda had come to stand beside his throne, one on either side, frustrated with their wayward ‘sister’.

 

_Look how she's off on the town_

_She's off on a search for sailors, though_

_There's a fine fella here to be found_

_She's never been one to stay at home_

 

_Home you'll go and it's there you'll stay_

_And you've work to do in the morning_

_Give up your dream of going away_

_Forget your sailors in Galway_

 

Thranduil raised one eyebrow in amusement as he realized they were referring to him when they sang of a ‘fine fellow’. Though the dancing ‘sister’ they scolded paid them no mind.

 

_Come now and follow me down_

_Down to the lights of Galway, where_

_There's fine sailors walking the town_

_And waiting to meet the ladies there_

 

Rissa stepped away from the throne in an attempt to convince Nemireth to return to them.

 

_Watch now he'll soon be along_

_He's finer than any sailor so_

_Come on now pick up your spoons_

_He's waiting to hear you play them, oh!_

 

In Nemireth’s hands suddenly appeared a pair of tied spoons. Thranduil watched curiously as she used the spoons to tap out a melody on her hands and fingers accompanying the fiddler. _Another unusual talent, Thranduil thought._

 

_Here today and she's gone tomorrow_

_And next she's going to Galway_

_Jiggin' around and off to town_

_And won't be back until morning_

 

A company of male human dancers took to the stage, leaping to the music of the fiddler, each trying to catch Nemireth’s eye.  

 

_Off with a spring in my step_

_The sailors are searching Galway for_

_A young lady such as myself_

_For reels and jigs and maybe more_

 

Now it was Miranda’s turn to attempt to herd Nemireth closer to the throne. Thranduil noticed that the anger in Miranda’s eyes was quite real.  

 

_Stay here and never you mind_

_The lights of the town are blinding you_

_The sailors they come and they go_

_But listen to what's reminding you_

_Handsome men surrounding you_

_Dancing a reel around you_

 

The three singers surrounded his throne, joining hands and dancing around him in a circle. But Nemireth quickly broke away to dance among the men. Her ‘sisters’ called after her in vain.

 

_Home you'll go and it's there you'll stay_

_And you've work to do in the morning_

_Give up your dream of going away_

_Forget your sailors in Galway_

 

When she was not singing, she was laughing, Thranduil noticed. She danced among the men so easily. He could not help but wonder if she was attached to one of them. Before he could stop himself, he sought out her mind with his.

Especially when performing for elves, Nemireth left her mind open. Knowing most elves had some form of telepathic talents, she found that it enriched the music when others could look into her mind and see the wonderful thing’s she saw in her mind’s eye when she sang.

Thranduil saw, in her mind, thousands of happy images of years filled with music and laugher. Though her song, she had made friends all throughout Middle-Earth and she cherished each one. To her, every day brought a reason to celebrate.

Nemireth could feel the King’s presence pushing gently onto her consciousness. She sensed his curiosity. While still dancing, she tentatively brought her mind to his. He wasn’t the only one who was curious. But as soon as she made contact with his consciousness, he retreated. He pulled away so sharply that she visibly shook for a brief second before righting herself and continuing her dance.

She craned her neck to look at him and saw he wore an expression of shock. But there were traces of apology in his expression too. The King had kept his mind locked away for so long that everyone knew it was pointless to reach out to him like she just had. It had been so long since anyone had even attempted to enter his mind that he had forgotten what it felt like. He wondered if he were to trust someone that much, would he even be able to let them in now?

As Nemireth danced from man to man, she soon become tired and bored with them. Slowly, she turned back to Thranduil. She walked towards him, almost shyly. Rissa and Miranda nodded in approval as their wayward ‘sister‘ came to realize what traveling sailor’s offered her was a shadow of what was to be found at home.

 

_Listen to the music flow_

_I'm falling for the flow of home_

_I'm home to dance till dawning_

 

She moved to his throne and knelt at his side, looking up into eyes. Her smile was forgiving, her eyes were reassuring.  

 

_Stay a while and we'll dance together now_

_As the light is falling_

_We'll reel away till the break of day_

_And dance together till morning_

 

Thranduil felt himself softening at her song. The way she looked at him made him believe that she really would dance with him until morning. He could not help but smile down at her.

“There’s a smile,” she laughed lightly. “Was that so hard?” She rose to her feet. Thranduil noticed that her slender legs were shaking slightly, and she was breathing heavily. She curtsied before him, smiling as brilliantly as ever, but Thranduil could now see that her coloring was slightly off. His brow furrowed in concern. She saw this, and before he could voice his concerns she turned away and quickly fled the stage.

Once she made it down the ramp, Thranduil watched her stumble towards the side room where the other ladies were waiting. Blythe was standing at the ready, as if she knew this was going to happen. She wrapped an arm around Nemireth, who was struggling to stand, and pulled her inside.

“Where’s the elixir?” Blythe whispered as she helped Nemireth into a chair. The elf was covered in a cold sweat, her eyes could not hold focus. She was vaguely aware of the King’s presence in her mind. She put all of her remaining energy into shutting him out.

“In the box on the table,” she whispered to Blythe. Moment’s later, Blythe pressed a small vial filled with pale green liquid into Nemireth’s hand. With trembling fingers, Nemireth managed to remove the stopper. She threw her head back and emptied the bottle in one gulp. She slumped back into her chair, letting her hand fall. The little bottle fell to the floor with a clank.

“That was too close,” Blythe whimpered, petting Nemireth’s long red hair. “You cannot go on like this,” came Rissa’s voice. Nemireth had stopped shaking. Her mind was becoming clear again.

“I know I can’t,” she said, her voice faint. “This will be my last performance.”


	3. Caledonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through Nemireth's song, Thranduil learns about where she came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Caledonia- Celtic Women  
> I've been listening to Celtic music non-stop for like 5 days, my roommates probably hate me lol

Thranduil sat anxiously in his seat as the performance continued on. Several songs had passed and Nemireth had yet to reappear. Every time the stage went dark to usher a new song, he clenched his fists hoping that when the light returned she would be standing there before him, smiling and sparkling. But the way she trembled before troubled him.

He turned to one of the guards posted by his throne on the floor beneath him.

“Find the elf maid,” he instructed. “When you do, assess her health. If you discover she is ill in anyway you will inform me immediately and you will provide her with anything she requires.” The guard bowed and quickly set off to complete his task. Thranduil pressed his fingers to his temple and sighed.

He could not understand it. How could he be sick with worry over someone he’d first laid eyes on only an hour ago. Why did the sight of her give him a sense of peace he had not known for centuries? He pictured her again, kneeling before his throne, so close he could feel the warmth of her skin. She had been so delighted to see him smile, it was touching to him.

Something dark and ugly in his heart fought to reject the warm feelings she stirred in him. It would be so easy to let the constant numbness overcome these tiny flickering feelings and smother them. But he held on. It had been over a millennium since he’d felt anything like this. Whether it was something real or just a product of beauty and music, he did not care. He had no longer thought himself capable of such things and he was unwilling to let it slip away so easily.

_But where is she?_ He wondered for the hundredth time as Ingrid left the stage and the lights dimmed once again. When they lit up again Nemireth was there, as if by magic. Thranduil let out an almost audible breathe of relief to see her. His concerned eyes searched her, but any trace of what had ailed her before had faded completely.

She sat with her long legs pulled up, her slender arms wrapped around her knees. Her skirts billowed about her, surrounding her like a cloud. Her hair tumbled down between her shoulders like a cloak, and pooled on the floor of the stage. With a wave of her hand she transformed the pale, glinting light coming from above into a golden glow that illuminated the room. It was as if she had invited everyone in the grand hall to come join her by the fireside for a story. The light within her that had captured him still shone, but rather than a dancing flame it had become a radiant glow.

Nemireth loved to sing this song. She always kept her consciousness open while she sang, but for this song she actively sought out the minds of others, inviting them to see into hers. Through this song, she was able to show others where she had come from, how she became who she was now. And she was able to learn about the people around her, to glimpse a small part of their stories. That’s what she loved best.

 

_I don’t know if you can see_

_The changes that have come over me_

_In these last few days I’ve been afraid_

_That I might drift away_

 

_I’ve been telling old stories, singing songs_

_That make me think about where I’ve come from_

_That's the reason why I seem_

_So far away today_

 

She was relaxed, she looked at every face in the crowd as if they were a close friend. And many gazed back at her with the same appreciation. That’s when Thranduil understood. She was not just singing a beautiful song, but allowing the elves of Mirkwood to know her. He struggled to understand her ability to be so welcoming to others, to allow them to get close to her, to know things about her. It seemed to come as naturally to her as breathing.

He felt a pang of jealously in his chest. He had lived among the people in this room for centuries, but did he actually know them? They certainly did not know him. Yet he was their King. He didn’t have to explore Nemireth’s mind to know that she already knew his subjects better than he did.

 

_Let me tell you that I love you_

_That I think about you all the time_

_Caledonia, you’re calling me_

_Now I’m going home_

_But if I should become a stranger_

_Know that it would make me more than sad_

_Caledonia’s been everything I’ve ever had_

 

Thranduil allowed his mind to wander through hers. He saw a beautiful place, wide open green fields as far as the eye could see. He could feel the gentle breeze and smell the sweetness of the grass. He saw her running through these fields, alone at first but quickly joined by others. Other elves, a handful of humans, even a dwarf or two. He saw the people she considered her family, whether they were linked by blood or not. In this beautiful green land she was never alone and never unloved.

He felt her deep longing for this place of fields and freedom. It was so strong that it almost hurt. It was a longing he understood. He felt such a longing every day, though he could no longer imagine what he longed for.

 

_Now I have moved and I’ve kept on moving_

_Proved the points that I needed proving_

_Lost the friends that I needed losing_

_Found others on the way_

 

She extended her arms, a gesture of friendship. Many of the elves reached out to her, returning the gesture. She was a visitor to this Kingdom, yet she was already more beloved than it’s King. The realization sat uneasily on his mind. _It is my job to protect them, not to befriend them_ , he told himself. Nemireth was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. He was still linked to her mind and therefore she was able to hear his thoughts. Quickly, he closed his mind to her. There were many memories he did not want her to see.

  

_I have kissed the fellas and left them crying_

_Stolen dreams, yes, there’s no denying_

_I have traveled hard, sometimes with conscience flying_

_Somewhere with the wind_

 

The images in her mind changed. Gone were the green fields and smiling faces. Thranduil saw Nemireth alone on a long road. There was much sadness within her now. But there was also hope. Even when she showed memories of finding the other four ladies, traveling together and bringing music everywhere they went, she still seemed isolated.

 

_Let me tell you that I love you_

_That I think about you all the time_

_Caledonia, you’re calling me_

_Now I’m going home_

_But if I should become a stranger_

_Know that it would make me more than sad_

_Caledonia’s been everything I’ve ever had_

 

_Why are you alone?_ He asked her, knowing she could hear him in her mind. Slowly she turned her head to look at him.

_For the same reasons you are alone,_ she replied. He stared at her in surprise, wondering what he might have accidentally shown her. But then he heard her voice in his head once again, _I don’t need to see your past to know you are in pain now._

 

_Now I’m sitting here before the fire_

_The empty room, the forest choir_

_The flames have cooled, don't get any higher_

_They’ve withered, now they’ve gone_

 

With another wave of her hand the light dimmed until only she was illuminated. As if filled with new found strength she rose to her feet, her dress swishing around her like flower petals.  

 

_But I’m steady thinking, my way is clear_

_And I know what I will do tomorrow_

_When hands have shaken, and kisses float_

_Then I will disappear_

 

She stood before the King as if she were invincible, arms open wide like the wings of a great bird.

 

_Let me tell you that I love you_

_That I think about you all the time_

_Caledonia, you’re calling me_

_Now I’m going home_

_But if I should become a stranger_

_Know that it would make me more than sad_

_Caledonia’s been everything I’ve ever had_

_Caledonia’s been everything I’ve ever had_

 

Nemireth bent into a deep curtsy and swiftly left the stage, refusing to look at the King. She could feel the King’s eyes boring into her back but she would not turn around. She knew she had over stepped her bounds. But she had felt such a deep sadness in the King’s heart it was impossible for her to pretend like it did not exist. Nemireth knew the kind of sadness he felt, for she had felt it herself not so many years ago. It was the sadness that accompanies loss.

She had taken great care only to show the happiness in her past. Yes, she had allowed the people to see that she had left home but she did not allow them to see why. She had carefully hidden her memories of the devastating orc raid that she had barely survived but so many had not.

“Is this really going to be your last performance?” Blythe’s small voice pulled Nemireth from her memories.

“Yes, pet, I’m afraid it is,” she sighed.

“What will you do?” Blythe asked. Nemireth had not yet considered what she would do when she was no longer a musical member of the company.

“Perhaps I will ask to remain here,” she said with a smile. “It’s a beautiful Kingdom.” “It is,” Blythe nodded in agreement.

“I bet the King will let you stay. He really seems to like you.”

“I’m not so sure about that, pet,” Nemireth said, picturing the King’s face before she fled the stage. Blythe sniffled beside her. Nemireth turned to her to see that the young girl was crying quietly into her palm. “Oh, please don’t be sad, pet. I promise that I will write to you as often as I can. And if I do stay here, you can visit whenever you are close by.”

“Yes, until you aren’t here anymore,” Blythe sobbed. Nemireth bit her lower lip nervously. It was a topic she tried her best to avoid. Many years ago, when the orcs came in the night and attacked her home, Nemireth tried to fight. But she was no match for those creatures of war. She abandoned her home and ran for the woods. But just before she reached the safety of the trees she was pierced by a Morgul blade. She was prepared to die that night, but luckily she was not the only one who had fled to the woods.

The elven healers of her home had also taken shelter within the trees. They found her just in time. It took them three days to heal her flesh wounds. But the poison from the Morgul blade had been driven into her so deeply that the healers could not completely banish it from her body.

They procured an elixir for her and taught her the recipe. Whenever she began to feel the effects of the Morgul poison growing strong she was to drink it. For the first decade or so, Nemireth only had to drink the elixir once a month to keep the Morgul poison at bay. Now, she could barely go an hour without it. The poison was overtaking her. Soon, she would need to sail to the Undying Lands. At this rate, she knew she would have to sail within the year.

“Pet, you must know that I will never truly be gone,” Nemireth smoothed Blythe’s ringlets. “Just because you can no longer see me does not mean I cannot see you.” She gently wiped away the younger girl’s tears. “Now go on, you cannot sing before the King with tears on your cheeks.”


	4. The Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil greatly misjudges Nemireth's past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: The Voice- Celtic Woman  
> sorry this took so long! Work is kicking my ass

For the first time in a very long time, Nemireth was nervous to walk onstage. King Thranduil had closed himself to her. When she had tried to reach out to his mind she felt only a wall simmering with anger. Knowing the King was angry, specifically angry with her, made her feel unusual. As if she were constantly stumbling, stuck in a dance that she could never fully master. She hated this feeling. She had to make it right. Especially if she wanted to spend the remainder of her time left in Mirkwood. No doubt she would need the King’s permission.

The more she thought about it, the more she like the idea of staying in Mirkwood. Surely she could find light work as a singer to support herself. Of course, it would be nothing as physically demanding as being part of the traveling company. Mirkwood was a heavily guarded kingdom, there would be no danger of an orc raid. She could spend the rest of her days in peace knowing she needn’t be on her guard at every moment. Perhaps she could even be a friend to the King. There could be no doubt that he needed one.

 _Yes_ , she thought, feeling a blush on her cheeks as she pictured how much more handsome King Thranduil was when he smiled. _I would very much like to make him smile again._

King Thranduil watched the stage with hawk’s eyes, carefully guarding his mind. Though he tried to equate Nemireth with nothing but a common traveling performer, he could not. He was aware of the exact moment she stepped out from the little side room. He could feel the vibrations of her heartbeat. Every part of him, every hair, every inch of his skin was tuned to her. It was a blinding awareness he could not turn off. Though the other four ladies were present, each one sitting on the stage in a wide circle bathing in their own pool of light, the stage might as well have been dark and empty.

Each new song had brought the exciting possibility of learning more about the unusual elf maid. But Thranduil had made the mistake of leaving his mind vulnerable to her. Even though it was only for the briefest of moments, and her consciousness had not completely joined to his, she still saw more than anyone else in over a millennium. He could not look into her vibrant eyes and see them shining with pity. His pride would not allow it. He did not want to know that all of her openness towards him was nothing but an misguided act of compassion, as if he were a wounded animal too weak to care for itself.

The longer he sat, the more angry he became. She would quickly learn not to toy with a King. He entertained the idea of having her escorted from the kingdom. Perhaps he would forbid her from attending the Feast of Starlight when her performance concluded. With every bitter thought the more he hardened himself to her. He would not be lulled by her sweet voice and enticing smile. But then Nemireth’s voice rang through the darkness.

 

_I hear your voice on the wind_

_And I hear you call out my name_

 

She appeared in the center of the circle of ladies, haloed in a golden light, a manipulation of her own magic. The effect was stunning, but King Thranduil refused to look at her. Instead, he kept his blank gaze on Blythe.

 

_Listen my child, you say to me_

_I am the voice of your history_

_Be not afraid, come follow me_

_Answer my call and I’ll set you free_

 

Her mind was pressing up against his with urgency. He could feel her apologetic motives. _More sympathy, more pity,_ he thought bitterly. He forcefully pushed her away from his mind. His face remained as expressionless as ever.

 

_I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain_

_I am the voice of your hunger and pain_

_I am the voice that always is calling you_

_I am the voice, I will remain_

 

_I am the voice in the fields when the Summer's gone_

_The dance of the leaves when the Autumn winds blow_

_Never do I sleep throughout all the cold Winter long_

_I am the force that in Springtime will grow_

 

Nemireth manipulated a wind that carried with it the essence of the seasons. As Thranduil took in the clean, crisp taste of winter air Nemireth felt his mind relax just enough for her to speak to him.

 _My King, please forgive me for overstepping my bounds before._ She searched his face but she found only a mask of ice refusing to look her in the eyes. _I only wished for you to know that I understand._

Thranduil suddenly felt a surge of resentment for Nemireth, who was always laughing, who seemed so free. In that moment he despised her kindness, her gentle nature, her genuine sweetness. He hated her for having all of the feelings that were now lost to him. There was so much she could not know of the world. Nothing as good and pure as she was could know anything about true evil. Not the way he did. He was insulted she could even entertain the idea of understanding him.

 _You know nothing of pain!_ His voice struck her like a blade carved from ice. _You know nothing of loss!_ Her mind shuddered against his words. But she was not cowering in is wrath, she was fighting to hold back her own. Nemireth whipped around, much to the confusion of the other four ladies.

 _How dare you!?_ She shrieked. King Thranduil visibly flinched. A dangerous, violent anger flashed in her eyes. The golden halo of light surrounding her began to bleed through to red. Abandoning the arranged choreography, she strode right up to the King’s throne. Her lips pulled back into a snarl.

 

_I am the voice of the past that will always be_

_Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields._

 

She allowed the swaths of fabric that made up her skirt to fall to the side, exposing one slender leg ribboned with jagged scars. The King’s mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes went wide with surprise and regret. She held her arms out in defiance, daring him to say something, daring him to belittle her pain again. She heard whispers of apologies in her mind from the King, but she was no longer in a forgiving mood. She invaded his mind, showing him memory after memory of the orc raid that resulted in the slaughter of her family and the destruction of her home. Rivers of blood, mountains of corpses mutilated beyond recognition.

 

_I am the voice of the future_

_Bring me your peace, bring me your peace_

_And my wounds, they will heal_

 

I am not my pain. I am stronger than my pain, she hissed. I do not let my pain stop me from living in the light. She closed herself off to him. There was nothing he could do to diminish her anger.

 

_I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain_

_I am the voice of your hunger and pain_

_I am the voice that always is calling you_

_I am the voice_

 

There was strength in her the King had not sensed before. She was not just a twirling songbird. Now she was a warrior. She was fierce, frightening, and unflinching. She was eternal and unyielding. Thranduil suddenly realized he had met his match when it came to willpower. Nemireth clearly deserved his respect, and he had foolishly withheld it from her for petty reasons.

 

_I am the voice of the past that will always be_

_I am the voice of your hunger and pain_

_I am the voice of the future_

_I am the voice_

_I am the voice_

 

Nemireth did not bow with the other ladies when the music came to a close. She stormed off the stage leaving a trail of angry sparks in the air as her magic came into contact with her fury. She was wildly pacing the side room trying to calm herself when Miranda stomped in.

“What the hell was that?” She demanded. “You made us all look like idiots!”

Nemireth bit back a barbed insult. Though she did not like Miranda, she was not the cause for Nemireth’s anger.

“I thought you were going to strike the King!” Ingrid said holding back laughter.

“This isn’t funny!” Miranda snapped. “We could be thrown in the dungeons for what she did.”

“You won’t be thrown in the dungeons,” Nemireth muttered. At least they wouldn’t, however, she might.

“What provoked such an outburst?” Rissa demanded. Nemireth was at a loss for words. She did not want the others to know, except perhaps Blythe, that she had been silently communicating with the King throughout the night.

“My anger was not directed towards the King,” she said quickly. “I was thinking of my past. The anger flowed through naturally. I felt that expressing it could better convey the meaning behind the music.” It was a poorly constructed lie, but it would have to do. “And I will never have the opportunity again, what with this being my last performance.” She knew that would put and end to this conversation. No one would begrudge her anything tonight. She did feel guilty for taking advantage but it was preferable to the others knowing the truth.

“Well you need to find a way to calm yourself,” Rissa instructed. “You cannot sing your duet with Blythe in such a state. It will ruin the entire song.”

“I will,” Nemireth nodded, finally allowing herself to sink into one of the chairs. Slowly, her anger left her body leaving exhaustion in its place. With a shaking hand she took a small sip of her elixir. It gave her back a little bit of her strength but did nothing to soothe her racing mind.  

 _There is nothing you can do for him,_ she told herself.  _If he wants to shroud himself in darkness and refuse to let anyone near him then let him._ This was her last chance to perform with the company. She would not ruin it for the sake of a stranger who responded to kindness with cruelty. 

Thranduil was disgusted with himself. He could only imagine what Nemireth thought of him now. She must now see him as the cold, foul-tempered, monster of a King the rest of the Kingdom saw.

For a moment, just a small moment, Thranduil thought he could be different. She made him think that he could be who he was many lifetimes ago. To her, he wasn’t an unfeeling King, he was just a person that needed help to enjoy something beautiful. Instead of returning her kindness he insulted her and upset her. He did not deserve her light.

He was used to detaching, removing things from his life that no longer served him purpose. But he did not wish to detach from her. He would apologize, beg forgiveness, something a King never did. Whatever it took for her to smile at him again.

“Bring me a small piece of parchment and something to write with,” he murmured to the nearest guard. The guard blinking in confusion. “Immediately!” Thranduil barked. The guard nodded. A short note would not be enough, Thranduil realized. There had to be something else he could do to show his sincerity. His people erupted into applause, startling him from his thoughts. Two of the human ladies had finished another song.

“At this time, our company will be taking a small intermission,” said the willowy blonde. “We shall return in a quarter of an hours time.” Once the stage had emptied, Thranduil leapt to his feet and rushed out of the great hall. He knew exactly what to do for Nemireth.


	5. The Last Rose of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nemireth receives her gift and realizes the full extent of her feelings for the Elven King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: The Last Rose of Summer by Celtic Woman  
> Stayed up all night writing this, so please forgive any spelling errors  
> It's currently 5 am  
> Who needs sleep anyways right?

Nemireth was not in the small room when the King’s guard entered.

“Where is the elf maid?” The guard said.

“She has stepped out for a moment,” Rissa said. “What business do you have with her?”

“Someone wishes to bestow a gift upon her,” the guard said, speaking as vaguely as he could.

“Of course _someone_ does,” the black haired human said, rolling her eyes and looking away.

“Leave it on the table. She will see it sooner or later,” Rissa instructed. The guard hesitated. He had been instructed to place the small bundle directly into the elf maid’s hands. The lights in the great all were dimming. The concert was about to resume. The guard was needed back at his post. Hesitating, he set the silk wrapped bundle on the table.

He noticed an odd vial on the table. It was about halfway filled with a faintly glowing liquid. He recognized it's contents right away. Quickly, he left the small room saying nothing to the human women.

“My Lord,” he said urgently as he approached the King’s side. But the King did not let him speak.

“Did she receive my gifts?” He asked.

“She was not in the room, sire,” the guard replied. “The other performers did not know where she was. They instructed I leave it on the table for her to find after her song.”

“But I _instructed_ you to personally place my gift into her hands,” the King said through his teeth.

“Yes, a thousand apologies my Lord,” the elf guard bowed. “But there is something you must know.”

“Whatever it is,” the King sighed. “It can wait. Please, leave me to enjoy the remainder of this performance in peace.”

“My Lord, there really is something you must know,” the guard tried again. Thranduil waved him away, disappointed and unwilling to hear any more excuses. He saw Nemireth enter the grand hall from a different door and join Blythe who was standing at the bottom of the ramp opposite Thranduil’s chair. The two women joined hands and began to walk as the gentle music of a harp filled the air.

Nemireth seemed different as she walked across the stage. Her vibrancy was still there but it was very much muted. She appeared worn, stretched thin. Thranduil understood that look. It was the look of remembering things that should not be remembered. The sight of her saddened him. He was the one that had caused that look.

Nemireth was holding Blythe’s hand. Thranduil couldn’t tell who was supporting who. Nemireth seemed weak. But Blythe seemed sad. They looked like a pair of wilting flowers. It was Blythe who sang first, her voice high and sweet and sad.

 

_'Tis the last rose of summer_

_Left blooming alone_

_All her lovely companions_

_Are faded and gone_

 

 

Thranduil could not help but think of Nemireth as Blythe sang. For she was very much like a lonely flower in a winter garden. A flower that appeared to be wilting.

 

_No flower of her kindred,_

_No rosebud is nigh_

_To reflect back her blushes_

_And give sigh for sigh_

 

Thranduil searched his mind for the right message to send to Nemireth. She was still avoiding his gaze, focusing only on Blythe. She stroked the human girl’s golden ringlets like a loving mother would. Thranduil noticed that there were tears in Blythe’s eyes.

He prodded at Blythe’s mind, curious about the cause of her tears. Her mind was filled with images of the other singers, only Nemireth was missing from all of them. That was all he could see before the weak connection to the girl’s human mind broke.

 _Why is she not there?_ he wondered. He pressed against Nemireth’s mind, seeking answers. She refused to let him see into her mind. However, Thranduil did not sense any anger in her actions, just sadness. But she was also tired, her defenses were weaker. But her voice was still strong and beautiful as she began to sing.

 

_I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,_

_To pine on the stem_

_Since the lovely are sleeping,_

_Go sleep thou with them_

 

 _I wish to show you something,_ he said when she finally let him in. That caught her off guard. She quickly glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

 

_Thus kindly I scatter_

_Thy leaves o'er the bed_

_Where thy mates of the garden_

_Lie scentless and dead_

 

Thranduil’s mind opened to her. He showed her a hundred years worth of battles. Most frightening and devastating of all was the battle against Sauron in the War of the Ring. Nemireth saw the death of King Oropher and many Sindarian elves. She saw Thranduil alone in a field of death, shrouded in grief. A grief he still very much felt to this day.

She saw him fighting the darkness that was encroaching on Mirkwood. She saw him relentlessly driving off orcs, spiders and other foul creatures. She felt his helplessness because no matter how endlessly he fought to keep his kingdom safe, the forest was still falling into shadow.

 

_So soon may I follow_

_When friendships decay_

_And from love's shining circle_

_The gems drop away_

 

Finally, he showed her memories of a beautiful elf woman. She was far more beautiful than Nemireth. She was almost as beautiful as the Lady Galadriel. She was his wife. She was the center of his happiness, she was always at her side. Nemireth shifted through the memories and she saw King Thranduil as he once was. He was smiling, laughing, and dancing filled to the brim with happiness and it was all because of his wife.

But then suddenly she was gone. Nemireth saw a dark place in the King’s mind. A place where the most horrible memories were locked away. Nemireth did not go any farther. She knew that his wife was gone, she would not force him to relive the horrible memories of how he had lost his wife.

After she was gone, that was when Thranduil became the ill tempered, unfeeling, wrathful King he was known to be. But underneath all of the ice within him, Nemireth could feel the broken heart that never healed.

 

_When true hearts lie withered_

_And fond ones are flown_

_Oh who would inhabit_

_This bleak world alone?_

 

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. The deep sadness and loneliness he carried inside of him was overwhelming. But not as overwhelming as his desire to find something that eased the pain of the past. No one deserves to suffer as much as you have suffered, she murmured weakly to him.

 

_This bleak world alone_

 

 _I wanted you to understand,_ his voice whispered in her mind. She was at a loss. It pained her to pull her mind away from his, but she was weak. She needed more of her elixir.

She bowed deeply to the King, placing her hands over her heart to show her gratitude. When she rose, she smiled at him. Her smile was filled with warmth and kindness. Though the King did not understand why she had withdrawn her mind so suddenly, her smile told him that there was no ill will or malice behind the act.

Nemireth glided off the stage with Blythe. But as soon as she was behind the walls of the side room, she fell to her knees gasping for breath. Ingrid and Rissa helped her into a chair. Blythe went to retrieve the elixir from it’s place on the table.

“Nemireth,” Blythe said, her small voice pinched with worry. “Where did you put your elixir?”

“On...the...table,” Nemireth struggled to speak between her ragged breathes. Blythe looked back down at the table. There was a small silken bundle sitting on the table that had not been there before, as well as a note that had been ripped open. But the elixir was gone.

“It isn’t here!” Blythe exclaimed. Nemireth’s eyes went wide with fear. With every breath the pain grew more intense.

“Oh, are you looking for this?” Miranda’s voice came from the corner of the room. In her pale hand she held the shimmering liquid. Nemireth nodded and reached for the vial. But Miranda retracted her hand. Nemireth’s eyes went wide with shock.

“Miranda, what are you doing?” Ingrid demanded.

“I’m giving us a chance to be noticed for a change.” Miranda’s voice was high and cracking. There was a sick light in her eyes. “It is always Nemireth who receives the praise. It is her the people fall in love with. It is always her!” Miranda looked at Nemireth with pure hatred in her eyes. “Kings are sending you love letters and it still isn’t enough for you. You want more, don’t you?”

 _Love letters?_ Nemireth thought in surprise. There had to have been some mistake. She shook her head as vigorously as she could, hoping Miranda would understand.

“Do you know what the rest of us have gone through to get here? I left my home, my family, everything behind so I could travel the world and sing. But no one sees me. All they see is you! You have taken everything that should be mine. And I am not going to sit back and let you take it anymore.”

“What is going on here?” Rissa’s voice came through the entrance of the small room. Nemireth sighed in relief.

“Miranda stole Nemireth’s elixir,” Blythe replied. Rissa turned to Miranda with a snarl.

“I believe Nemireth has spent enough time stealing our limelight,” Miranda said, holding her chin up.

“So you’re going to let the poison consume her so you can get some attention?” Rissa spat. With one swift motion, she grabbed Miranda’s arm and twisted it back, forcing her to drop the vial. Blythe picked it up off the marble floor and hurried to Nemireth’s side. Nemireth took a large gulp of the glowing elixir. Almost immediately she was able to breathe properly again.

“I should ban you from the stage,” Rissa threatened. Miranda looked bewildered. She had not anticipated that Rissa would finish her song before the poison left Nemireth completely incapacitated.

“No,” Nemireth choked on her words. “This is my last performance. I will have everyone present.”

“She just tried to murder you and you still want to sing with her?” Ingrid said in disbelief.

“It is not up to me to punish her for her cruelty,” Nemireth replied. “Besides, it is more important that this performance be spectacular. And for that to happen, we need Miranda.” Nemireth turned to Rissa. “Punish her if you must but wait until our performance has concluded. It would be horrible for our reputation if we fell apart in the middle of a performance, especially in front of a royal audience.” Rissa considered for a moment, then nodded.

“You’re lucky she’s right,” Rissa sneered at Miranda. "I will deal with you later."

“What did she mean about love letters from the King?” Nemireth asked Blythe.

“I’m not sure,” Blythe replied. “But there is a note on the table that was not there before.”

Nemireth walked over to the table and picked up the small piece of parchment. Elegant writing penned in dark silver ink flowed over the paper.

_Dearest Nemireth,_

_I cannot begin to express my regrets for causing you such pain. I am deeply sorry for my actions. In truth, you have stirred feelings within me that I thought were lost. You are a light in this dark world. Beautiful and pure. I humbly beg your forgiveness and remain at your service._

_-Thranduil_

 

“Oh my,” Nemireth sighed. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. She looked at the small bundle of fine elven silk. Carefully she picked it up and lifted the folds of the silk.

Underneath the silk was a flower unlike anything she had never seen before. It had five long white petals that glowed as if by magic. She gingerly picked it up by it’s silver stem and ran her finger over one of the soft petals. Her finger came away shimmering.

“It is coated in stardust!” She exclaimed. With deft fingers, she braided the beautiful bloom into her hair. She was tingling from head to toe. Her smile would not fade away.

Nemireth wanted nothing more than to run to the King, beautiful, sad, lonely King Thranduil, and wrap her arms around him. She was stunned by how much she wanted to ease his loneliness. She realized she wanted to be the companion he craved. 

Already her mind was spinning with fantasies on how she would bring him happiness. But the vial that contained her life preserving elixir quickly reminded her that those fantasies could never pass into reality.


	6. Cloudsong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Cloudsong - Anúna  
> this song gets to me every freakin time.

“Well,” Nemireth said, clutching the King’s note to her chest. “I cannot remain in Mirkwood,” she whispered to Blythe. Though they were now the only two in the room, Nemireth still did not want to risk anyone hearing her words.

“Why not?” Blythe asked, her brow furrowing.

“I care for the King,” Nemireth replied. It felt so strange to say those words out loud. “I cannot remain here, only to have my feelings grow and then be ripped away from this place.”

“But what if he feels for you too?” Blythe asked.

“Then I most certainly cannot stay,” Nemireth said sadly. King Thranduil had lost so much, she would never forgive herself if she caused him to feel more sadness. “He will never know this is my last performance. He will never know of my illness. In the morning we will leave as we always do. It is better that way.” Nemireth nodded her head, as if reassuring herself rather than Blythe. It was too dangerous to thing otherwise.

“If he does not care for you now, he certain will after you sing the Cloudsong,” Blythe said with a sweet smile. Nemireth whipped around.

“The Cloudsong! I had completely forgotten about that!” Fortunately, at that moment, Rissa entered the small room along with Ingrid and Miranda. Unfortunately, Rissa did not look like she was in the mood to discuss last minute changes to the performance.

“Rissa, I cannot sing the Cloudsong,” Nemireth said desperately.

“And why not?” Rissa asked, eyebrow arched.

“It is not just a song. It was written by the Sindar elves, the same elves that are sitting before us now-”

“Then I’m sure they will appreciate hearing it,” Rissa said cutting her off.

“You don’t understand!” Nemireth pleaded. “The words were written in starlight ink. The words have great power to the elves.”

“What a remarkable performance it will be,” Rissa said. Nemireth opened her mouth to protest once more but Rissa held up a hand. “I am not giving you a choice. You will either finish this all the way through or you will take your leave of us now. You have caused me enough trouble for today.” Nemireth tried to come up with another argument but Rissa’s stern expression told her anything she said would fall on deaf ears.

With dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, Nemireth walked to the doorway. The glowing lights above the stage were already illuminated. With a wave of her hand she stole their light, leaving the great hall in total darkness. If she were to sing this song, she could not even dare to look at the King. Hiding in the darkness she walked onto the stage.

When she reached the center, she just stood for a moment. More than anything she wanted to escape to the small side room and let the next song begin. Her voice was shaky as she began to sing. There was no music to accompany her, just the faint echo of her own voice as it rang though the silent hall.

 

_Hear my cry,_

_In my hungering search for you,_

_Taste my breath on the wind,_

_See the sky as it mirrors my colors,_

_Hints and whispers begin._

 

Already she could feel the affect of the words. The light she was holding inside of her from the orbs above began to glow, illuminating her like a single star in the darkness. She could see the King. But to her excitement and to her horror she saw that he was no longer sitting in his chair, but standing. The words were affecting him too.

 

_I am living to nourish you, cherish you,_

_I am pulsing the blood in your veins,_

_Feel the magic and power of surrender,_

_To life._

 

The music was pulling her towards him. She fought it, her hands shaking with the effort. But he was not fighting the pull at all. He was allowing the song to push him forward like a leaf in a river’s currant. Nemireth was raw and vulnerable. Thranduil wanted to be near her.

 

_Every finger is touching and searching,_

_Until your secrets come out,_

_In the dance, as it endlessly circles,_

_I linger close to your mouth._

 

Very gently, his finger brushed her wrist. Warmth spread through her entire body. Both of their minds were flooded with gentle images of endless laugher and dances. He imagined them riding though the woods together, she imagined walking through a garden hand in hand. Together they created the most beautiful image of themselves, intimately intwined beneath a sea of stars. They walked in starlight together.

 

_I am living to nourish you, cherish you,_

_I am pulsing the blood in your veins,_

_Feel the magic and power of surrender,_

_To life._

 

For a moment she could not move. The air had been sucked from her body. Her heart was pounding. The world had fallen away and _he_ was all she could see. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, she could almost hear the pounding of his heart, and she knew he felt what she was feeling. He was staring at her so intently, his eyes searching her face. He tilted his head just slightly. Some of his long hair fell over his shoulder. Nemireth wanted to touch it. She wanted to lay her hand on his cheek. She wanted to bring her lips to his. It was more than she could bear.

She gathered her skirts in her hands and ran from the stage. Rissa, Ingrid, Miranda, and Blythe were standing in the doorway. Nemireth pushed her way though them.

“What was that?” Ingrid asked. Nemireth turned back to them with tears streaming down her face.

“That,” she said choking on a sob. “Was why I did not want to sing the Cloudsong.” She sank into the chair behind her and buried her face with her hands. Her shoulders trembled as she cried. She had never cared for anyone beyond the definition of friendship before. She avoided it, knowing that her time was limited. It was not fair that she should feel this way now. She tried to push the King’s image from her mind. She did not want to remember how his cold, sad eyes lit up with hope when the Cloudsong brought fourth their mutual desires. She did not want to think about how badly she wanted everything she saw in his mind to come to pass. Now she knew that no matter what she did, she would hurt him.

Thranduil was still standing on the stage where he was when Nemireth suddenly fled. He stood in shock for a long while. His subjects stared at him uneasily, wondering what had just transpired between their King and the elven singer. All of the elves knew the Cloudsong, but very few had seen it create such strong magic before. When it was clear Nemireth was not going to return, he slowly walked back to his throne. The wonderful images of the Cloudsong were still fresh in his mind. He clung to them. He would find a way to make them real.

“Go to the elf maiden,” he instructed the same guard who had delivered the note and the flower. “Bring her to me, please.”

“Yes, my lord. But please sir, there is something you must know about her.” The guard was still persistent. Thranduil sighed.

“Yes, all right. What is it?” He said irritably, his eyes never leaving the doorway to the side room in case Nemireth were to reappear.

“When I entered the room, I noticed a vial on the table,” the guard began. “It was part way filled with pale, glowing liquid. And it smelled of the Ninroot.”

Thranduil tore his eyes from the door and stared at the guard.

“You must be mistaken,” he said.

“No sir,” the guard shook his head. “My wife is a healer. It is the same vial she gives those who are preparing to make their journey to the Undying Lands. I would know it anywhere. I’ve helped her prepare it several times.”

Thranduil felt a heavy weight come down on his shoulders. He knew the elixir well, too. It was the elixir of life preservation.

“Do you still wish for me to fetch the elf maid?” The guard asked.

“No,” Thranduil said quietly. “Let her rest. I will speak to her later.” The guard bowed and returned to his post.

Thranduil felt numb. For the first time in so long he had felt that there could be an end to the grief that plauged him everyday. Nemireth had appeared like a ray of light, chasing away the shadows of his past. And now, before he could even call her his own, she was fading away before his eyes.


	7. Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions between Nemireth and Miranda reach an all time high. Thranduil is not reacting well to the news of Nemireth's illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Goodnight, My Angel- Celtic Woman/Billy Joel  
> Sorry it's been so long since ive updated this. Finally got Word on my PC though, so thats fun. I've been inspired lately so hopefully I'll finish this darn thing :)

Once Nemireth had wiped the tears from her cheeks and regained control of her emotions, she went to the door and looked out at the King. Thranduil was sitting in this throne, fingers pressed against his temples as he listened to the words of a guard. Whatever the guard was saying, it was something Thranduil had not wanted to hear.

“Do you think there could be trouble at the boarders?” Nemireth wondered out loud. She went over everything she could think of in her mind that would cause the King to make such a face. Suddenly, Miranda appeared beside her, her smug face keeping her from looking as nonchalant as she wanted to appear.

“Oh, I recognize that guard,” she said matter of factly.

“Oh?” Nemireth replied, mostly because she could not think of anything else to say.

“Yes, he was the one who delivered the King’s flower,” Miranda continued. “He was gone before you returned.”

“Well, whatever he is saying now is certainly putting the King ill at ease,” Nemireth commented, never taking her eyes off the ever furrowing brow of King Thranduil.

“Yes, I wonder what the guard could have seen that would make the King unhappy,” Miranda said in a voice that was all too knowing for Nemireth’s comfort.

“Do you have any idea?” Nemireth asked, knowing it was what Miranda wanted her to do.

“Well, perhaps the guard set eyes on a certain vial you would’ve wanted to keep hidden,” Miranda said with a serpent-like grin.

“That’s impossible,” Nemireth dismissed her quickly. “The vial has been kept wrapped in cloth, in its pouch, in the drawer of the table. There is no way anyone but the five of us could know it existed.” Miranda was just trying to toy with Nemireth’s already strained nerves, nothing more than that. Nemireth repeated the thought over and over again in her mind in an attempt to flush away the doubt Miranda was stirring up.

“It would seem you weren’t as careful with your elixir as you say you were,” Miranda said with a laugh. “Because one look at the vial and the guard fled the room. He must have just now gotten an opportunity to speak with the King.”

“Impossible,” Nemireth repeated again, shaking her head. Not once during her time in the small room had she seen the elixir anywhere but hidden away in a drawer. Even when Blythe had to tip the bitter liquid down her throat, Nemireth had watched to make sure Blythe put it away properly.

“I’m sure it is,” Miranda said sweetly but the gleam in her eyes was purely malicious. Nemireth stared at her, her eyes growing wide as she finally realized what Miranda had done. Her eyes flickered back to the guard speaking to the King, to the King’s face growing sorrowful for a moment before turning to expressionless stone. His eyes were burning. Once again, Thranduil was unreachable.

“You didn’t,” Nemireth whispered. Miranda didn’t even have to speak. The ugly truth shone all over her pretty face. “Miranda how could you do that? Why would you do that?” Nemireth tried to stop herself from shrieking.

“Why? You want to know why?” Miranda hissed. The other ladies had turned their attention to the conflict unfolding in the small room.

“Ladies, I would advise against this ugly behavior,” Rissa said in a warning tone. Nemireth would have been more than happy to step back and focus on undoing the damage done against Thranduil. Miranda, on the other hand, was not willing to give an inch.

“Every day the light shines brighter on you!” Miranda snapped at Nemireth. “Every day I step into your shadow while you turn every head and draw every eye leaving nothing for the rest of us. You are given the best songs, the best parts, the best positions. Now you are taking the best suitor and I cannot bear it a second longer.”

“Miranda, I-“ Nemireth tried to interject, to stop Miranda’s ranting, but Miranda would not be silenced. This time, Miranda was not giving up an inch of her stage.

“Everywhere we go, you are adored beyond all others. You wave your hand, cast your magic, and pull all of the glory for yourself. You have taken that from me! Before you joined our ranks it was me who was adored above the others. I was given the best music. I enchanted crowds of thousands. But I may as well be an orc compared to you!”

“Miranda that isn’t true,” Nemireth spoke as calmly as she could.

“As if you would know!” Miranda shouted. “This group was my saving grace. Do you know what I left behind? Ten brothers and sisters, a mother in the ground, and a father too fond of the drink to think of anything else. I survived and I escaped just to be overshadowed by a sprite.”

“I don’t care what you do against me. And I am sorry you think I have taken anything away from you.” Nemireth replied. “But did you think about what you’ve done to the King?”

“I care not for the heart of a shallow elf lord,” Miranda spat. “What is it to me that you fancy him?”

“You think that the King wouldn’t defend her, should your evil deeds be made known?” Rissa’s calm voice startled both Miranda and Nemireth. “Did you think I would allow you to continue your employment with us after admitting to such an act against a fellow lady as well as our current employer?”

Miranda looked between Nemireth and Rissa like a woodland creature caught in a hunter’s snare. Many times her mouth opened, but for once, her silver tongue could not find the proper words. In the end, she could only hang her head for shame and mercy.

“It will be Nemireth’s decision,” Rissa declared before stepping away. Nemireth did not even have a change to refuse.

“I will not grovel for mercy,” Miranda said refusing to look Nemireth in the eye. “I will not beg for anything from you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Nemireth replied. “I’m sorry that things became so strained between us. I only wished you had said something sooner rather than resorting to something like this.”

“I-“

“There is nothing more for you to say to me,” Nemireth silenced Miranda. “This is the last song I will ever sing with this group and I would greatly appreciate it if it were to go pleasantly.” Miranda gave a curt nod of agreement.

Nemireth’s mind was racing as she walked up the stage ramp beside Miranda. There was no way to know for sure if the guard knew what was contained in the vial. There was no way to know for sure if the guard had been talking to Thranduil about the elixir. There was no way to be certain if Thranduil had figured out she was ill. Nemireth decided that the best way to proceed was to let Thranduil reach out to her first.      

“Tonight had been special beyond all belief,” Rissa was addressing the King, using a voice that could match him in the art of regality. “We are honored to have been chosen to sing before you in such a Kingdom on such a night for such beings. We thank you from the deepest parts of our hearts and we bid you all the fondest of goodbyes.”

_Good night my angel_

_Time to close your eyes_

_And save these questions for another day_

_I think I know what you_ _’_ _ve been asking me_

_I think you know what I_ _’_ _ve been trying to say_

Nemireth finally found the courage to lift her eyes and sneak a glimpse at Thranduil. As she expected, his eyes were downcast, cold as stone, looking at nothing in particular. His shoulders were raised and stiff. His jaw was set. His hands curled into tight fists, nails digging into his palm.

She stared at the pale crown of his head, hoping he would sense her gaze and look up. If she couldn’t see into his eyes, she couldn’t even begin to guess what he was thinking. His mind was closed to her once again but this time she did not have the heart to push against the walls that kept her out. She was not ready to face the reality of a crushed fantasy that did not get the chance to fully bloom.  

_I promised I would never leave you_

_And you should always know_

_I never will be far away_

_Why will you not look up?_ She pleaded against the solid wall blocking his consciousness from her. _Why will you not see me?_ She rationalized that he must know something about her condition. After losing so much in his life, she could not blame him for pulling away from her even though it cut her like a knife.

Nemireth glanced at Miranda. Even though the words tumbling from her mouth were light and lovely, she looked nervous. The uncertainty of her future was weighing down upon her shoulders. Nemireth knew that weight. That weight was her old friend, her constant companion. She decided she would remove that weight from Miranda.

_Goodnight my angel_

_Now it_ _’_ _s time to sleep_

_And still so many things I want to say_

_Remember all those songs you sang for me_

_When we went sailing on an emerald bay_

           

As a gesture of forgiveness, Nemireth waved her hand slowly, creating the illusion of rippling emerald water across the stage to accompany Miranda’s gentle voice. Miranda’s eyes grew wide at the stunning effect. She turned just enough to look at Nemireth out of the corner of her eye and turned the corner of her full mouth up into the smallest of smiles.

_And like a boat out on the ocean_

_I_ _’_ _m rocking you to sleep_

_The water_ _’_ _s dark and deep inside this ancient heart_

_You_ _’_ _ll always be a part of me_

Her voice caught, just the tiniest bit. And still the King did not look up. Nemireth let her shoulders sag in surrender. It weren’t as if she had any kind of future with the King. She was a dancing girl, a pretty thing to look at.

_Good night my angel now it_ _’_ _s time to dream_

_And dream how wonderful your life will be_

_Someday a child may cry_

_And if you sing this lullaby_

_Then in your heart_

_There will always be a part_

_Of me_

There was no cheering when the song finished, not even a scattering of polite applause. Just the final lonesome note. The King still sat like a figure of ice on this throne. Nemireth looked around. Sadness was etched into the face of everyone in the room. Well, everyone except King Thranduil. He refused to lift his face.

The five ladies stood still. Without any sort of direction from the King they were unsure of how to proceed. Blythe began to dip into an awkward curtsy while Miranda turned gracefully on her heel to make a stunning exit. Rissa stood ramrod straight. No one was smiling.

Something snapped in Nemireth just then. A great selfishness, as she might describe it. This was her last performance. No one was smiling. The elf lord she knew she had fallen for was crafting a wall of ice and thorns between them. She was not like every other elf in the room. She did not have eternity. She had a year if she was lucky. And she would not suffer through another moment of anything less than happiness.

“Enough of this!” She called out, her voice tinkling like a silver bell. Blythe halted in the middle of her curtsy. Miranda stopped her exit and turned back. Every elf in the room snapped to her attention. But King Thranduil still refused to raise his head. “I will not stand here in this cloud of sadness, not for a moment longer. I cannot bear it!”

“Nemireth, I have had more than enough of our outbursts today,” Rissa hissed.

“This night is about bringing light to others,” Nemireth’s voice took on a pleading tone. “It is not a night of sorrowful goodbyes and I will not have it end in such a way.” She turned sharply, her hair flying about her shoulders, to face Thranduil who still sat motionless on his throne, refusing to acknowledge the scene unfolding before him.

“And you!” She snapped, reaching the King in three gliding strides. “What must I do? What more can I do?” Nemireth had the king’s attention now. He looked up, eyebrows pulled down over his cold eyes in a fierce glare. She matched it with a glare just as withering. “All night I have been trying to bring a smile to your face. All night I have danced and sang with everything I have in my soul and for what? For glares and scowls? To be let in and shut out so fast my head spins?” She held her words back for just a moment, testing him, seeing if he had the nerve to respond. He did not. Nemireth did not know if she was meant to feel smug or disappointed. “I have been driving myself to madness wondering how to act, what to say, what to keep hidden all to spare you from any sadness or discomfort. But what of what I feel? Has it never occurred to you that sparing you is tearing me apart?” She realized that her voice had gone scratchy and raw. Her chest was heaving with the passion of her speech. She must have looked a sight but she did not back down.

Thranduil searched his mind for the right words. No matter how he twisted the present situation, he could not escape the fact that she was right. She had seen right through him from the moment she stepped upon the stage, until right now standing before him, shoulders squared and chin held high. He was a King, an elven king of the mighty woodland realm. And here he was being put in his place by a sprite of an elf. She had examined his character and laid it out for all to see. Worse still, he had wounded her. He had not simply wounded her pride, like he had clumsily done before. This time he had wounded her heart.

He cursed his own selfishness. She was the one in peril. He did not know why she need a preservation elixir, but none of the reasons he could imagine were good ones. Instead of thinking about how she may be struggling, that she may be scared, he thought only of himself and how to protect himself from the pain of loss again.

He looked around at his subjects, all anxiously awaiting his next move. He could not speak plainly to her, as he wanted, with all of these spectators. But he had to say something that would soothe the look of despair in her eyes.

“Please, dear thing,” he said companionably, as if he were talking to a diplomat or an old friend. “Do not fret away on my behalf. I assure you I have not enjoyed a concert so much as the one you have put on. Every moment will be treasured for the rest of my days,” he said holding her gaze so she could see the deeper meaning behind his words. “And I quite agree that, though the last song was lovely, it was much too sorrowful of a conclusion to a night meant for celebration.” He was trying to dizzy her with honeyed words. Nemireth held firm, not telling the gentle velvet of his voice erase the hard set of her jaw. “Please, indulge me with just one more song.”

“As you wish,” Nemireth answered flatly, dipping into a shallow curtsy.

“And as payment,” Thranduil continued quickly, before she could flitter away, “For the extra song, I would like to personally extend an invitation to you, and your ladies, to join in the feast.” Nemireth could hear the excited gasps of Blythe and Miranda behind her. Though Nemireth hated to admit it at that particular moment, she had been greatly hoping the King would allow them to attend the feast.

“That is very generous, your Majesty,” Nemireth said, sinking into a deeper curtsy. Thranduil bowed his head in return. When he’s eyes met hers once again, they were alight with mischief.

“And since you have displayed an uncommon concern for my enjoyment of this performance,” Thranduil spoke as if he were holding back laughter, a sound Nemireth cherished. “You have my word that I will greatly enjoy this final song.”

“I hope you do just that, your Majesty,” Nemireth allowed the faintest wisps of a smile to pass her lips. Thranduil smirked.

“I will even dance, if it pleases you, my lady.”

Now it was Nemireth’s turn to smirk. She bowed once more and floated off the stage. She quickly realized that there might not be a final song, because there was a good chance that Rissa would flay her alive for causing such a scene.

Rissa was already standing at the far side of the stage, opposite the King, flanked by the other ladies.

“Rissa please forgive me for speaking out of turn that way but-“ Rissa’s hand was in the air, once again silencing her, but this time is was not out of displeasure. Rissa was grinning from ear to ear.

“It’ll all been arranged, my dear,” she declared. “You’re grumblings with the King gave me enough time to speak with the musicians.”

“You are not angry?” Nemireth asked.

“Oh, I was for a moment. I thought you’re slashing tongue were going to get us all sent to the dungeons. But somehow you’ve managed to secure us a place at the King’s feast tonight. I will not look upon miracles with anger,” Rissa said beaming. “Now get in place!”


	8. Mo Ghile Mear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his inner struggles, Thranduil is determined to give Nemireth the perfect last song she desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Mo Ghile Mear- Celtic Woman  
> -A large part of this song is sung in Gaelic, which has to be one of the most gorgeous languages I've ever heard. For most of the songs I have used I have left the Gaelic parts out because despite how beautiful the language is, it is damn confusing to read. But for this song, the translated words are so amazing I had to include them. I highly suggest looking up this song on youtube so you can hear it with all of the original Gaelic parts.  
> -Also thank you so much for all the support, I never imagined anyone would read this much less like it!  
> -updated it!!!! Enjoy!

The music began with a single drum beat. A smile spread across Nemireth’s face as she recognized the song instantly. She cast a grateful smile to Rissa and hurried to take her place for the dance. They arranged themselves in a circular formation. The drum beats continued and they began to chant.  

 

 _The day of the sea_  
  
_The day of the sea or of the high tides_  
  
_To follow the voice of the waves_  
  
_I would follow the voice of the waves_  
  
_The day of the sea or the ebb tide_  
  
_The day of the sea or of the high tides_  
  
_The day of the sands, the ebb tide_  
  
_The day of the sands_

 

The chanting alone was hypnotic, even to the performers. Nemireth began to sway as if she were caught in a gentle tide. The room was suddenly filled with a breeze carrying the sharp tang of an ocean wind. Underneath the music, Thranduil could hear the faint sound of waves crashing against rocks, a clever illusion on Nemireth’s part. He realized, with regret, just how long it had been since he had visited the sea. Once calmer times fell upon Mirkwood, perhaps he would travel to the coast for a time.

 

 _Can you feel the river run?_  
  
_Waves are dancing to the sun_  
  
_Take the tide and face the sea_  
  
_And find a way to follow me_

 

As they sang, they moved like a wheel. Each woman stood before the king and sang her part before moving in a twirling rotation of white skirts and pretty smiles.  

 

 _Leave the field and leave the fire_  
  
_And find the flame of your desire_

 

Finally, Nemireth stood before him. Without realizing, he leaned forward in his seat. Nemireth beamed and let her feet carry her forward, closer than anyone else had dared. Her hands were on his, her small hands wrapping around his long, thin ones. He squeezed her hands gently, taking in the glowing beauty that had been returned to her.  

_Set your heart on this far shore_  
  
_And sing your dream to me once more_

 

His smile was her undoing, even more so than his eyes. His perfect lips had parted, revealing a dazzling full smile. Nemireth took a moment to completely absorb the smooth details of his ancient face. She memorized the way the ridges of his hands felt against hers. She let herself linger for just a moment more before sliding her hands from his grip and continuing the routine.

 

 _He is my hero, my dashing darling_  
  
_He is my Caesar, dashing darling_  
  
_Rest or pleasure I did not get_  
  
_Since he went far away, my darling_

 _Now the time has come to leave_  
  
_Keep the flame and still believe_  
  
_Know that love will shine through darkness_  
  
_One bright star to light the wave_

 

Nemireth kept her gaze locked on Thranduil’s. Her eyes were soft and reassuring. Thranduil became aware of the fact that his brows were drawing together in response to the unwelcome thoughts entering his mind. He couldn’t let himself dwell on the ugly reality he would have to face later. He had promised Nemireth a final song filled with happiness. She needed that more than he needed to grieve for knowing she would eventually slip away from him.

_He is my hero, my dashing darling_  
  
_He is my Caesar, dashing darling_  
  
_Rest or pleasure I did not get_  
  
_Since he went far away, my darling_  
  
  
_Lift your voice and raise the sail_  
  
_Know that love will never fail_

 

 _Love will never fail,_ Thranduil repeated in his mind. His first thought was to snarl at the falseness of the words. Love had failed him before. He almost visibly winced as he felt coldness creeping around his heart. _No,_ he thought gritting his teeth. _You will not back away,_ he demanded of himself. _You will do this for Nemireth._ Nemireth was watching him with a hawk’s eyes. Though she was still singing and moving with the other ladies, every inch of her body was tuned to his, reading his mood.  

 

 _Know that I will sing to you_  
  
_Each night as I dream of you_

 

Once again, she was not just singing, she was speaking directly to him. Her eyes were shining with sincerity and Thranduil believed every word of her song without a trace of doubt in his mind. It was a luxury a King could not often afford, knowing the words that were spoken were words of truth.  Truth, comfort, laughter, light. Those were the words that came to mind when he thought of Nemireth.  _Love will never fail,_ the words entered his mind again. Truth, comfort, laughter, and light were also words of love. Those words could not fail him, he realized. It was never love that failed him, it was he who had failed love by closing himself off and rejecting it in every form. 

_He is my hero, my dashing darling_  
  
_He is my Caesar, dashing darling_  
  
_Rest or pleasure I did not get_  
  
_Since he went far away, my darling_

 

He loved her. The realization washed over him like warm spring water melting the last of winter’s ice. Was it the deep, eternal love he had for his lost wife? No, this was a simpler love. It was a love he knew would never have the chance to grow into something like the love he had before. It was not a love to be analyzed and measured. But that did not make it any less real. For the too brief time she would be with him, he decided he would love her like he would have her forever. At least that way she could leave this world knowing she was loved.  Knowing he would be able to give that to her was enough to chase away any bit of sadness he carried.

 

 _Gile mear, the wind and sun_  
  
_The sleep is over, dream is done_  
  
_To the west where fire sets_  
  
_To the gile mear, the day begun_

 

Nemireth raised her arms above her head and the room lit up with a brilliant golden light as if she had brought the rising sun right into the grand hall. Once the light was at full force, Nemireth dropped her arms and glided up to the throne, her hands reaching for Thranduil’s.

“You promised you would dance,” she said with a wicked smile. The smallest pinch of doubt fluttered in her stomach but Thranduil laughed good-naturedly and took her hands.

“That I did,” he said rising. “You shall have your dance, Madame” he said loudly, announcing it to his court.  As they moved to the center of the stage, he leaned in close to her, his lips brushing the wild tendrils of her hair. “And there will be many more to come.”

A bright blush spread over Nemireth’s cheeks as she let the king twirl her into the starting position of a common, yet lively, sindarian dance. To her delight he was a marvelous dancer. His steady arms held her in his frame as he led her through the dips and turns as if she weighed no more than a feather. Nemireth was entranced by the light in his usually cold eyes, by the pull of his muscles, and the way his broad shoulders felt under the rich fabric of his tunic.

_He is my hero, my dashing darling_  
  
_He is my Caesar, dashing darling_  
  
_Rest or pleasure I did not get_  
  
_Since he went far away, my darling_

 

On an impulse, Thranduil wrapped his hands around Nemireth’s waist and lifted her into the air. She let out a delighted squeal. When he began to spin, she spread her arms and tipped her head back letting the golden light of her illusion play along her fair skin. Not for the first time, Thranduil was reminded of a bird taking flight.

 

_Since he went far away, my darling._

 

The song ended with an abrupt note. Thranduil released Nemireth, catching her again before her bare feet hit the floor. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a giddy embrace. Thranduil wrapped his long arms around her back, running his hands over her long hair as her entire body shook with laughter and excitement.

Blythe, Rissa, Ingrid and Miranda took their bows as it had been practiced. Nemireth could not bring herself to step away from the King. And it did not appear that Thranduil would be loosening his grip on her either.

The subjects of Mirkwood were shocked by the actions of their usually reserved, callous King. But the elves were much too excited, or much too drunk, to question any of the events that had taken place during the concert. Many looked on with misty eyes, remembering better days when the forest was green and the King was happy.

Keeping Nemireth pressed against his side, Thranduil addressed the subjects and guests of the great hall.

“Never has there been such a splendid performance for our feast,” he began. “I am anxious for the merriment to continue and I invite everyone to move to the courtyard where there is food and wine for everyone!” Cheers erupted once more and the elves quickly left their seats and made for the courtyard. Thranduil turned his attention to the four human ladies. “My guards will escort you to your chambers for the night. You may refresh yourselves before joining the festivities in the courtyard. Clothes have been provided for you if you wish to change.” He said with a graceful nod.

“Thank you so much, Your Majesty,” Rissa chirped, unable to hide her bubbling excitement. The rest of the ladies followed suit, each bouncing with anticipation. They rose and rushed off to locate their escort.

“I’ll be but a moment,” Nemireth called to them and turned to face the King who took her hands in his and pressed them to his lips.

“Go on now, dearest,” he said gently, running a slender finger under her chin. “There is plenty of time left to celebrate this night.” Nemireth sank into a deep curtsy. When she rose she found herself once again captivated by the King’s eyes, now filled with a new warmth. “Tonight, you will have everything in the world.”

Nemireth hurried down the corridor to catch up with the others, her cheeks still flushed with happiness. Every few feet she peeked over her shoulder to look at the King, who stood watching her until she was out of sight. Once she joined the small group, she linked arms with Blythe and tried to stop herself from giggling.

“What did he say to you?” Blythe asked in a whisper. Ingrid, Miranda, and even Rissa were all looking at Nemireth, anxious to know what had transpired between her and the King.

“How did this even happen? The two of you have scarcely spoken and yet it seems that he’s turning his court upside down for you,” Ingrid asked with a mischievous light in her dark eyes.

“I let him see into my mind,” Nemireth tried to explain it in a way the human women would understand. “And in return, he let me see into his. Not very much, but enough for me to know that he needs some kindness in his life.”

“So that’s why you were so determined for this show to be especially spectacular,” Rissa shook her head. “It all makes sense now. Never have you been so…ornery.”

“And I am not apologetic in the least,” Nemireth laughed. “Just to see King Thranduil smile like that,” Nemireth wanted to say more, but the memory of the King’s smile made her grin so widely that it was impossible for her to say more.

“You are smitten!” Miranda exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so!” Nemireth giggled.

“Your rooms, my ladies,” the King’s guard said, bringing all conversation to a halt. They stood before tall, intricately carved wooden doors with curved brassy handles. The guard opened one of the doors for them and ushered them into a spacious room that looked as if it were carved into the center of a massive tree.

Blythe, Ingrid, Rissa and Miranda looked about in awe, taking in the strange and beautiful details of the room. Nemireth, however, had never felt more at home. Though she had never lived in a real elven kingdom, she felt that she belonged here.

“A guard will remain posted at your door until you are ready to be escorted back to the feast,” the guard said with a quick bow clearly eager to return to the feast himself.

“Please give the King our sincerest thanks,” Rissa said with a curtsy. The guard nodded, turned sharply on his heel and closed the door behind him as he took his leave.   

“This is like something from a dream!” Blythe exclaimed, spinning circles in the room. “It’s something out of a fairytale.”

“Look at the gowns that have been left for us!” Ingrid squealed. On the far side of the room, beautifully colored gowns where spread across the beds.

“There are only four beds,” Rissa observed with a small frown.

“I’m sure the King is expecting Nemireth to sleep elsewhere tonight,” Miranda said with a wink. Nemireth blushed.

“He must expect her to attend the ball naked as well,” Ingrid joined in.

“Oh stop that, I beg of you,” Nemireth said with a nervous giggle. “There might not have been an open chamber large enough to accommodate five people. Many elves travel from all ends of Middle Earth to experience the feast. I’ll share a bed with Blythe.”

“But what about your gown?” Miranda asked, already claiming a gown the exact blue of the night sky.

“I’m already wearing a gown,” Nemireth played with the lacy layers of the gown she’d worn all night. It was perfect for dancing.

“You may be right about having only four beds,” Rissa began. “But there must be an explanation for only having four gowns.” She was running her fingers over a velvet gown the color of a dove’s wings.

“There is,” came Blythe’s voice from the other side of the room. She was standing before a knotted wooden wardrobe, holding the doors open. “Nemireth, I’ve found your gown.” Nemireth hurried to Blythe, quickly followed by the others. They let out a soft gasp when the saw the gown hanging in the wardrobe, but Nemireth was stunned into silence.

It was as if the stars had been pulled down from the heavens and made into a dress. The fabric, woven from something that was somewhere between silk and pure light, glowed softly. Nemireth reached forward with a shaking hand and stroked the skirt. It felt beautiful.

“You must put it on!” Blythe gasped. With the greatest care, Nemireth took the dress from the wardrobe and held it in her arms. It barely weighed anything at all. Rissa moved behind her and released the clasps of her dress.  Miranda helped Rissa slide the dress down Nemireth’s body. She gingerly stepped over the pooled fabric at her feet and with Blythe and Ingrid’s help, slowly slid the new dress over her head.  She could barely feel the fabric as it brushed against her skin.  The bodice of the dress clung tight to her middle. The neckline, embroidered with tiny white gems, exposed the pale half-moons that were the tops of her breasts. Her collar bones and shoulders were bare. The sleeves of the dress were fitted all the way to her wrists then fell away in long wispy swathes of shimmery fabric.

“You look beautiful!” Blythe exclaimed, blinking back tears.

“You look like a fallen star,” Ingrid observed. Nemireth still could not speak. Never in her life had she worn a dress so fine. She felt her throat growing tight, but she wouldn’t dare cry and risk staining the dress with her tears.

“Nemireth, those are surely tears of joy?” Rissa asked. Nemireth took a deep breath, forcing the tears to retreat.

“Yes,” she replied. “And no. This is all so bittersweet. I must not think about it too much or I shall never be brave enough to leave this room.” Rissa nodded in understanding. She turned to the others.

“Get dressed quickly,” she said clapping her hands. “We must return Nemireth to her King!” They burst into a flurry of giggles and colored fabric and each helped each other into their elven gowns. Nemireth stood rigid as a stone, still too afraid to risk damaging the dress. But as she watched them, these women who had become her family over the past years, her heart felt lighter.

“Can you help me with the back?” Blythe asked Nemireth, exposing the back of her sea shell pink gown that still needed to be pulled closed.

“Of course, pet,” Nemireth said warmly. With her deft hands, Nemireth laced up the back of the gown. “Can you breathe?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Blythe laughed. “Is it elven magic? Being able to cinch up a gown yet still being able to draw a proper breath?” Nemireth laughed in response and set to arranging Blythe’s ringlets to frame her pretty face.

“Shall I fetch the guard to escort us back?” Said Ingrid, who looked radiant and exotic in a gown of dull gold.

“Yes, I believe we are all ready,” replied Rissa.

“Are you ready?” Blythe whispered to Nemireth. Nemireth took in a nervous breathe. She thought of the King. She tried to picture how his face would be when he saw her in this gown.

“Yes,” Nemireth said, letting a true smile spread across her face.  


	9. The Soft Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing her time in Mirkwood is running out, Nemireth steals precious moments with the King that captured her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song- The Soft Goodbye- Celtic Woman

Thranduil sat stiffly in his chair in the courtyard, one leg crossed over the other. After seeing their King so lively, many of the elven maidens now tried to tempt him to dance. Thranduil barely noticed them, nor did he notice the many elven diplomates attempting to converse with him. He would not take his eyes from the grand door on the opposite end of the room through which Nemireth would soon enter.

“If you want to discuss your matters further I highly suggest making an appointment for an audience for a day that is not today,” He said for the third time to a pushy diplomat.

“Yes, your Highness,” the diplomat murmured and faded into the crowd.

_Good riddance,_ Thranduil thought to himself, taking a long sip of wine from his cup. For just a moment, he tore his gaze from the firmly shut doors and let his eyes wander the room. It seemed as if everyone was laughing, dancing, drinking or all of the above. It had been a long time since he’d actually _looked_ at his people. Each had their own story, each had a reason to be honoring the stars tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d realized that. Nemireth realized it the moment she walked into the room. In fact, she not only realized it but celebrated it, and made and effort to learn the stories of the people around her. Perhaps that was a skill he could learn from her. Perhaps it would make him a better king, a more beloved King.

The creak of the great doors pulled Thranduil from his thoughts. Everyone in the room turned in anticipation. It seemed as if Thranduil was not the only one anxious for the return of the enchanting singers. Even the King’s musicians stopped playing in anticipation. But it was not the singers that had entered, it was their lively fiddler. He was greeted with cheer, but there was an air of disappointment behind the applause.

With a knowing smile, the fiddler began to play a tune that the mirkwood elves at once began to drunkenly sway and clap to. One of the King’s musicians accompanied the fiddler’s tune with a whimsical flute. When the music reached the peak of its crescendo, the grand doors opened once again and in burst the five enchanting singers each with their arms linked through the others. Thranduil’s breath caught in his chest. Nemireth was in the center, shining in her gifted gown, more lovely than he could’ve ever imagined.   

The four human women were looking at the faces around them, but Nemireth was looking up to the open sky above in awe of the stars. She was an elf after all, and therefore was drawn to the light of the stars. Thranduil watched her with an adoring smile. She only dropped her gaze when the other’s pulled on her arms to lead her to the center of the floor. Together, with the music of the fiddler, they formed a circle and danced, throwing their clasped hands high above their heads. The elves were delighted to watch them dance, none more than Thranduil. But it was not long before the ladies dropped hands and began to seek out elven dance partners to bring into the circle.  Miranda and Ingrid grabbed several handsome elven men, Rissa selected a member of the high council, and Blythe took the hand of a shy elven maiden who had spent much of the night hiding in the shadows. Nemireth was the only one who did not select a partner for herself. Instead she was looking about the room, red curls flaying out around her every time she turned her head.                   

Thranduil watched her with an amused smile until, at last, her eyes found his. Her mouth spread into a wide grin as she gingerly picked up her shimmering skirts and hurried towards his throne. Like water, the crowd parted around her as she moved. Many were as in awe of her as Thranduil was. Several elven maidens sneered with envy as she approached the King without hesitation.

“My King,” she said playfully, spreading her arms and bending forward. Thranduil stood slowly, playing at being nonchalant.

“My lady,” he said bowing deeply before her.  “Forgive me, but I was not expecting a real star to come down from the heavens to join in our festivities.” Nemireth tossed her head back and laughed heartily.

“My King, you flatter me when it is I who should be flattering you. I cannot express my gratitude for your kindness and generosity.” Thranduil took up one of her hands and linked her arm through his. Together, they walked into the crowd of astonished onlookers.

“Your wish is my command,” he murmured to her as he led her to the dance floor.

“I wish for this night to last forever,” Nemireth replied placing one hand on his shoulder and his other hand slid around her waist and pulled her in close.

“So shall it be,” Thranduil whispered, letting his cheek rest against her forehead.  

Once they began to dance, they did not stop. Five dances, ten, twenty, Nemireth could not keep count. All that existed to her was King Thranduil. But too soon did Nemireth feel the pressure in her skull, the prickly heat over her skin, and the pinpricks of light sparking in her vision. She needed more of her elixir. Thankfully, the dance ended a few notes later. She bowed deeply to Thranduil.

“Please excuse me for a moment, my lord,” she said. She could hear the weakness in her voice. She hurried from the courtyard before her vision began to blur, leaving King Thranduil alone and confused in the middle of the dance floor.

She stumbled through the first set of doors she found. They lead to a secluded balcony looking over the forest. Nemireth sucked in a long breath of cool, crisp air before digging through the delicate fold of her skirt for the hidden pocket that concealed her elixir. With a shaking hand, she took a long gulp of the bitter liquid. She swallowed painfully and sighed. She felt the effects of the drink almost immediately, but the balcony was so serene that she decided to linger for a few more moments before returning to the cramped courtyard.

Overhead, she could see even more of the endless expanse of stars, more stars than she ever imagined existed. In the presence of direct starlight, her dress glowed even more. She walked to the edge of the balcony and rested her hands on the cool wooden railing. She did not know how much time had passed, nor did she know how long the figure beside her had been there before she noticed him.

King Thranduil stood stoically, looking over his forest. When he turned to look at her, neither smiled nor spoke. They both understood that they could not go on celebrating as if they had all of the time in the world. But there was one more thing Nemireth wanted to do for her King. She wanted to give him a gift, a memory, which was to be his and his alone. Keeping her eyes fixed on the stars above and the forest beyond, she began to sing.

 

When the light begins to fade

And shadows fall across the sea

One bright star in the evening sky

Your love’s light leads me on my way

 

There’s a dream that will not sleep

A burning hope that will not die

So I must go now with the wind

And leave you waiting on the tide

 

Time to fly, time to touch the sky

One voice alone

A haunting cry

One song, one star burning bright

Let it carry my

Through darkest night

 

Rain comes over the grey hills

And on the air a soft goodbye

Hear the song that I sing to you

When the time has come to fly

 

When I leave and take the wing

And find the land that fate must bring

The brightest star in the evening sky

Is your love far from me

 

Is your love waiting far for me

 

They stood together in silence for a long while, enjoying the silence, lost in their own thoughts. When Thranduil turned to speak to Nemireth, she was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes.

“You are ill,” he said simply. Nemireth nodded. “Very ill.” She nodded again, almost feeling ashamed for having the truth said aloud. She chewed on her bottom lip and kept her eyes focused on the tips of her satin slippers peeking out from beneath her dress. It was all she could do to not cry in front of the King.

Thranduil reached for her. At first, he only placed a hand on her shoulder, a comforting gesture. But before he could stop himself he wound his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, taking comfort of his own.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” He asked softly.

“No,” her voice was strangled as she spoke. Thranduil did not speak, he only gave one slow nod and began slowly stroking her hair. All of his worst suspicions were true. And worst of all was the trembling of her shoulders as she fought her own reality.

“You have honored me with so much this night,” Thranduil began, taking her hand and holding it over his heart. “But may I ask you to honor me once more?” He slid a finger under her chin and gently lifted her face to look at him.

“Anything,”  

“Yes,” she said. “But I do not want to dance with the mighty elven King.” Thranduil frowned, confused by her words. Very gently, she took one of her hands from his and placed it on his cheek. “I want to dance with the true Thranduil.” Gently, she ran the tips of her fingers down the left side of his face. Thranduil stared at her, his eyes growing wide.

“How do you know about that?” He asked looking away.

“I’ve heard stories,” Nemireth answered honestly. “I think we are beyond keeping truths from each other, don’t you think?” She asked, gently taking his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her again. Thranduil stared at her, his eyes searching her face. Finally he sighed and closed his eyes. His face contorted in discomfort as deep, jagged scars appeared on the left side of his face. When he opened his eyes, one was still stunningly blue but the other was milky white.

“Now we have nothing to hide from each other,” Nemireth said, stroking his good cheek. “We have both seen each other’s scars.” She lifted her skirt just enough to show the jagged cuts that laced up her legs. Letting her skirts fall back into place, she looked back up and Thranduil. He was smiling down at her in a way that made her stomach flutter.

“May I now have this dance, Milady?” He said taking her hands in his once more.

“Of course,” Nemireth stepped closer to him and allowed him to lead her through dance after dance. They never grew weary. They never felt the need to rejoin the feast. Through many dances they talked to one another, telling stories from their long lives. But for some dances they were silent, memorizing the way one felt in the other’s arms.

Nemireth did not know how much time had passed when Thranduil finally pulled away and took her by the hand, leading her to a stone bench

“You should rest for a while,” Thranduil insisted, even though he was the one stifling a yawn. He sat down on the bench, stretching his long legs over the length of the bench and leaning his back against the balcony wall. Nemireth sat between his legs and laid back against his chest. She marveled at the sound of his heartbeat underneath her.

“You must stay here, in Mirkwood,” Thranduil said wrapping his long arms around her as his eyes fluttered shut. Nemireth did not reply, she simply let him sink to sleep.

How could she stay when she would eventually cause him misery? How could she remain here knowing it would lead to an unhappy ending? Wasn’t it much kinder to leave now, leaving only happy memories behind? She thought of the short future she could have left. Every night she would see the worry in Thranduil’s eyes that she may not wake the next day. Every day would have the question of whether or not it was her last hanging over everything she said and did. That was not a future she wanted for Thranduil.

This night had been the most amazing night in all of Nemireth’s considerably long life. She knew that nothing would ever compare to this. She could pass into the next world with the happiness of this night in her heart. And Thranduil would live on, hopefully carrying the happiness of this night in his heart as well.

It was for her sake, and more importantly for the sake of the King, that she leave that night.

 

When Thranduil woke to find the pale light of morning streaming down onto his face, he tightened his arms, expecting to feel Nemireth still curled up beside him. But there was nothing there. He was alone on the balcony.

“Nemireth?” He called, his voice scratchy from the night before. When no answer came, he forced himself to sit up, ignoring his throbbing head and achy back. Sleeping on the stone bench had not been a well thought out idea. “Nemireth?” He called again, looking into the courtyard. Still there was no answer. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and expanded his consciousness, seeking out her mind. He could not find her.

Panic began to set in. He stormed through the twisting corridors, dodging elves suffering from hangovers in various degrees. When he reached the chamber he had given to the singers, he burst through the doors without bothering to knock.

The chamber had been cleaned out by the elven maids. The beds were made, the gowns were gone. There was no trace of anyone ever having been there the night before.

“Your Majesty,” came a soft voice. Thranduil quickly turned around, foolishly feeling hopeful for it was not Nemireth’s voice he had heard. The youngest of the human women, the one with the golden ringlets and the angelic voice, was sitting quietly on one of the beds. Thranduil had not noticed her when he’d first entered.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat and bowed quickly. “I am sorry to disturb you,” he began. “But I was hoping you could tell me where-“

“She’s gone,” The girl said. Thranduil now noticed that her eyes were watery and her cheeks were stained with tears. “Gone before any of us woke.”  

“Gone where?” Thranduil demanded. He almost regretted speaking so harshly to the already distressed young woman. Blythe tried to respond but all she could do was shake her head.

“She left you this,” the girl said quickly, holding out a piece of parchment folded into quarters. “She left us all letters. I don’t know what she has written to you, but I can promise it will bring you comfort.” The King only stared at her with his cold eyes. Blythe chewed on her bottom lip. Hesitantly, she stood up and crossed the room to the King. “Please take it,” she pleaded, holding out the letter. The King would not move. With a sigh, Blythe set the letter on the dressing table where the King would be able to find it later. Silently, she gathered her things and made for the door.

“Your Majesty?” She said, looking over her shoulder from the doorway. The King turned his head a fraction, just enough to see the shape of her from the corner of his eye. “She loved you. That’s why she left. Because she loved you.” Blythe didn’t know what sort of reaction she was expecting, but she did not expect the King to give no reaction what so ever. With a sigh, she bowed and took her leave, closing the door behind her.

As soon as he heard the door click, Thranduil spun around, smashing his fist into the dressing table mirror, shattering the glass and snapping the wooden frame. In a blind rage, he grabbed Nemireth’s note and tore it to pieces, leaving the parchment in shreds at his feet.

Thranduil sent guards to search every inch of the kingdom and every acre of the forest beyond. But it knew it would be of no use. Nemireth was gone. And once again, King Thranduil was alone.


	10. Afterword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Nemireth's time to pass through to the land of Valinor, but something happens that she does not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this far! I've really hoped you've enjoyed it. This is the last chapter of the story but I hope you will be glad to know that it is the setup for a SEQUEL! I hope you are excited as I am cuz I am super excited to start working on it!

Nemireth rode for days, never once looking back. She knew that if she looked back she would lose all resolve and run back to Mirkwood. When she finally arrived in Rivendell, she was delirious with exhaustion. The guards wanted to hold her for questioning until she explained she was traveling to Valinor the moment a ship was available. The next day she was granted an audience with Lord Elrond.

“It is a shame to see one go so young,” he said with pity in his eyes after Nemireth told him her story, though she left out anything to do with the King. She couldn’t bear to think of him let alone say his name. “You came all the way from Mirkwood? You made remarkable time.”

“I am anxious to leave,” Nemireth said simply. Lord Elrond nodded, mercifully not pressing her for details.

“I wish you safe passage,” he said chivalrously.

“Thank you, my lord,” Nemireth replied.

Once on the ship, she finally allowed herself to draw a full breath. What’s done was done. She kept her gaze steady on the ocean in front of her. It was not long before she could see the shimmering light of Valinor ahead of her. _It will be over soon,_ she told herself trying to ignore the heaviness in her heart.

But just as the bow of the ship passed into the light, a thick silvery mist surrounded the boat. It was so dense Nemireth could scarcely see five feet in front of herself.

_You go before your time, child._ A bodiless voice echoed through the mist. _You leave to spare the one you love, though it causes you such pain._

Nemireth nodded stiffly. For less than the blink of an eye she saw a face, beautiful beyond imagination, take form in the mist.

_For your selflessness, I offer you a gift,_ the voice came again. _For the one you love is also very dear to me._ Nemireth blinked in surprise. The lovely voice in the mist knew Thranduil? How could that be?

_When your soul is returned to the land of the living, no matter which world you are sent to, you will have the power to call for him. And he will hear you, no matter where he is._ How could that be possible? How could she call someone in another world? A thousand questions erupted in Nemireth’s mind. But only one seemed truly important.

“Will I ever see him again?” Nemireth asked. The tears she’d been holding back spilled onto her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her sobs.

_I believe the worlds will align in your favor,_ the voice said gently. _Call and he will answer._ Before Nemireth could say anything else, the mist disappeared as quickly as it arrived. All that was left before her was the light. She let it wash over her, her heart filled with the hope that someday, worlds away, she may be able to see her King again.

And at that moment, in a place many worlds away, a baby was brought into the world. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, her fine hair was stunningly red, and her first cry was the most beautiful sound the doctor had ever heard, more like a song than a cry. But most startling of all, her eyes were the color of emeralds caught in the light of a setting sun. Her name was Emma Marie Waight.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah, and I don't own the hobbit.


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